Leaving home (2/2)
As one of the rising stars in experimental physics, Gu Yilan was spoken to with respect even by professors in their fifties. He even had his own private office in A University’s physics building.
He brought Su Zesui into that spacious, personal office.
Only when he saw the empty room did Su Zesui finally relax, no longer clinging so tightly to Gu Yilan.
Gu Yilan walked over, cleared the computer off the desk, and pulled out a few bags of Su Zesui’s favorite potato chips from the cabinet. He placed them on the desk and turned to the boy. “You’ll do your homework here.”
Su Zesui was still a bit dazed, completely overwhelmed. He obediently sat in Gu Yilan’s chair, poked the bag of chips in front of him, and said, “Chips.”
“Mm,” Gu Yilan replied, placing a pack of wet wipes in front of him. He explained mildly, “Reward for being brave enough to go out today.”
In behavior reinforcement training, positive rewards are given for good behavior, and negative consequences for bad ones. That’s how you reinforce and deepen the learning of correct actions.
He wouldn’t punish the boy, but he would offer small rewards when he did well.
“Brother, can you…” Su Zesui held his wrist up to the railing beside him and gestured, “lock me up?”
Gu Yilan glanced at the boy, whose frightened eyes were darting around. After hesitating for a moment, he steeled himself and said flatly, “Not now.”
Su Zesui pouted, poked at a bag of chips, and mumbled under his breath amid the crinkling sound, “Brother doesn’t like me anymore…”
Gu Yilan replied, “…There aren’t any handcuffs here.”
Su Zesui gave a pitiful little “Oh,” then wiped his hands clean with a wet wipe, opened the bag of chips, and nibbled on one.
“I have something to take care of outside,” Gu Yilan said. “Do your homework here. If you need anything, message me on WeChat.”
“Okay,” Su Zesui replied, opening his competition prep book.
After Gu Yilan left, Su Zesui worked on practice problems while snacking on chips. Once he entered a state of flow in the quiet room, he surprisingly stopped feeling so scared.
But it wasn’t long before someone knocked on the office door.
Su Zesui immediately froze, pen halted mid-stroke. Snapped out of his focus, he sat upright like he was facing a formidable enemy, ears pricked, staring at the door. One hand instinctively reached for his phone, ready to call Mr. Gu for help.
If looks could build walls, he would’ve sealed that door shut.
Unfortunately, the person outside seemed entirely unaffected by his silent resistance. Even though he hadn’t said a word or invited them in, the door handle turned anyway—and the door opened—
Outside the office, Gong Chuang greeted him with a textbook-friendly smile and waved before stepping inside.
He had always been curious about Su Zesui—not just because he seemed completely different from the rumors, but also because he wondered how on earth he and Gu Yilan had ended up together.
Hoping to build rapport, and knowing the boy was a bit timid and needed time to warm up, Gong Chuang brought along some kid-friendly snacks, intending to have a light chat.
“Doing homework? If there’s anything you don’t understand, you can ask this brother,” he offered gently.
But the boy visibly flinched and didn’t even give him a chance to speak further—he looked like he was about to dive under the desk.
Gong Chuang was stunned. He quickly raised a hand in reassurance. “Don’t be scared. I just came to give you some snacks. Nothing else.”
Su Zesui clutched his pen tightly. Cold sweat trickled down his back as he stared at the man slowly approaching him.
Gong Chuang placed a few large pieces of chocolate near the boy’s hand and had just managed to squeeze out a kindly smile, getting ready to make some friendly small talk—when he was hit with a wave of confusion as the boy’s eyes filled with tears.
“H-Hey, don’t cry! I-I…” Gong Chuang stammered.
The kids in his extended family had always loved him—calling him “brother” left and right, constantly wanting to play. From five to eighteen years old, he had never made one of them cry.
Which meant… he had zero experience in comforting someone. He was completely lost.
“Don’t… please don’t…” Gong Chuang was at a total loss. He couldn’t go forward, couldn’t step back.
So when Gu Yilan returned to the office after finishing a chat with some research institute colleagues, the first thing he saw was Gong Chuang standing by the desk in full panic, clutching a box of tissues, handing them to the boy one by one.
Meanwhile, Su Zesui had curled up in his chair, shivering while nibbling on chocolate and crying so hard that half a page of his competition book was soaked through.
The moment he saw Gu Yilan, Gong Chuang looked like he’d just spotted his savior. He put the tissues down and raised both hands like he was surrendering. “I-I didn’t do anything, I swear!”
“Move,” Gu Yilan said, walking over with a frown.
“Dude, you gotta believe me. I really didn’t do anything. I just saw him sitting alone and thought I’d bring him some snacks,” Gong Chuang said quickly, desperate to explain.
After all, the last thing he wanted was to be accused of “making your brother’s newly certified husband cry the minute he stepped out.”
Gu Yilan reached out, took the chocolate from Su Zesui’s hands, grabbed a tissue, and gently wiped the tears from his face. His voice softened as much as possible. “Close your eyes.”
Su Zesui let him move him as he liked, and after a long moment, he finally choked out a broken, tearful, “Brother… I’m scared.”
“Mm. It’s okay now.”
Gu Yilan gently wiped away the boy’s tears, tossed the damp tissue into the trash, then finally looked up, frowning as he said to Gong Chuang, “He can’t eat this kind of chocolate.”
In Su Zesui’s nightmarish past, large chunks of chocolate had played a painful role. That’s why he only ever ate small chocolate balls or chocolate shavings on ice cream.
“I’m really sorry… I had no idea.” Gong Chuang lowered his head to apologize, truly ashamed for turning good intentions into a mistake.
Su Zesui tugged at Gu Yilan’s sleeve, eyes misty with tears, his clear gaze shining like pale amber. “Can we go home?”
“I forgot to lock the door earlier,” Gu Yilan said, glancing at the culprit, Gong Chuang, his voice calm but cold. “Make sure to lock it properly later.”
Su Zesui collapsed onto the table and gave a soft sob, his voice thick with congestion. “I wanna go home.”
Seeing the boy so downcast, Gu Yilan let out a quiet sigh. He opened a nearby cabinet and pulled out something shiny. “Raise your arm,” he said.
Su Zesui lifted his head from his arms, still dazed, and obediently raised his arm.
With a distinct click, a handcuff snapped around his slender wrist. The other end was clipped to the railing by the desk, connected by a long chain.
Even someone as worldly as Gong Chuang couldn’t help but gape at the scene before him.
——Why did Gu Yilan have something like that in his office? The kid’s crying, asking to go home and instead of comforting him, he cuffs him to the furniture?
…Was this normal?
“Let’s just keep it like this for now,” Gu Yilan said as casually as if he were saying “Good morning.”
Gong Chuang stood frozen on the side, bracing for the boy to cry harder, maybe even threaten to run away or worse.
But instead, Su Zesui simply tugged at the chain a few times, making it clink and jingle. After confirming it was secure, an odd sense of comfort welled up inside him.
Gu Yilan tossed the chocolate on the desk into the trash and opened a new bag of chips for him.
“Thank you, Brother,” Su Zesui said, no longer crying, already crunching away on the chips again.
Gong Chuang: ???
“Mm.” Gu Yilan shot a glance at Gong Chuang, who looked like he was holding his breath. “Let’s go.”
“I’m really sorry, man. I didn’t think it would turn out like this.” Still confused, Gong Chuang followed behind and mumbled another apology.
Gu Yilan didn’t reply. He silently walked toward the office door. The moment he opened it, he came face to face with three junior colleagues who had just raised their hands to knock.
“Senior, we were just—” They didn’t even get to finish their sentence when suddenly—
Clink. The cold clatter of metal echoed through the room.
It was the unmistakable sound of real, heavy metal—sharp and unnatural in an office setting.
Instinctively, the trio’s eyes turned toward the source—
There, Su Zesui sat with a cold steel handcuff on his wrist, trying to hide his face behind his small hands. But through the gaps between his fingers, they could still see his red, puffy eyes, like someone who had just been bound and harshly bullied.
Their gazes awkwardly swept past the despairing Gong Chuang and finally landed on Gu Yilan’s impassive face.
Thud.
The report they were going to hand over slipped from their fingers and fell to the floor.